


Drunk Dial

by PeterTheProblematic (GoWithHappiness)



Series: Mutually Assured Destruction [2]
Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M, Forgive Me, Mildly Dubious Consent, aka that one thing everyone's been asking for, alcohol use, drunk tris is drunk and spunky, except I'm bad at this kind of thing, onesided phone sex, peter's a pervert, phonesex, sin - Freeform, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoWithHappiness/pseuds/PeterTheProblematic
Summary: Okay so I've had a lot of requests to write this up - and I don't..hate it? But also I'm not very good at this sort of thing, it's my first time writing anything in this kind of setting (i.e: phone stuff ) So forgive me?Anyway, onwards! (Sorry it's kinda short, but the call was only like, twenty/thirty minutes so..)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I've had a lot of requests to write this up - and I don't..hate it? But also I'm not very good at this sort of thing, it's my first time writing anything in this kind of setting (i.e: phone stuff ) So forgive me?
> 
> Anyway, onwards! 
> 
> (Sorry it's kinda short, but the call was only like, twenty/thirty minutes so..)

Alcohol has a funny way of making you feel a lot more confident than you’d ever imagine possible. Or at least, it did for me. I’d managed to take four and a half shots to everyone else’s steady five - well, everyone except for Al, he wasn’t taking any at all - and I was still sitting upright and conscious, so those were all good signs that I was doing well..I think. 

So what if the room was spinning like a top, right? My tongue was swollen and stuck to the roof of my mouth, and suddenly I felt the intense urge to go walking - I needed fresh air. I needed to make sure the world wasn’t actually moving as fast as it felt like, or I might have lost my composure and gotten sick. 

Moving was a lot more difficult when my limbs felt like lead, though, and I had a hard time pushing myself away from the booth. It resulted in one tipped over pitcher spilling its meager contents across the table and three..or maybe six sets of eyes staring at me with varying degrees of concern and alarm. I grinned and waved my hand dismissively - or tried to, it flopped back down into my lap as soon as I lifted it - mumbling a quick, “M’fine,” 

Somehow, I can’t really say for sure how, I got to my feet without needing to hold on to anything for support. Al stood up, too, holding a hand out to me with furrowed brows, but I shook my head and frowned. Or at least, I’m pretty sure I frowned. My face was admittedly a little numb. “Are you okay, Tris?” His voice was irritatingly concerned for me, and I felt a twist in my gut. I didn’t need protection! So I shook my head and tried to smile, though I can’t say it was particularly convincing.

“Yep.” I giggled at the way the ‘p’ popped, which didn’t seem to do any favors for making me appear to be okay. “I’ll be back--I can do it alone,” That seemed to wound Al, he looked away almost immediately and sat down - I didn’t apologize. 

With that settled, I walked away, finding support in the railings for the first and possibly last time in my life - I still didn’t like them, but they made it a little easier to keep myself from dying. Things went a little sideways from there, somehow I’d crossed the bridge over the river below without plummeting to my death, so that was something to cheer about. 

I can’t tell you how I wound up with my phone in hand, or what brought me to the conclusion that I should call Peter and let him know what an insufferable bastard he was, but the line was ringing and there was no backing down from it. At least, not unless he didn’t answer.

I considered hanging up, but then there was a noise other than ringing on the line, and it caught me off guard enough to stay put. I could just hear the rustling of fabric and a tired groan. I’d woken him up - good. Just-woken-Peter sounded husky, his voice rough and slow, which was something I could have gone my entire life without knowing.

“Jesus Prior, why are you calling me at--” There was a pause and more rustling, maybe he was rolling around to find his alarm clock, and I felt a growing sense of discomfort. Why  _ was _ I calling him, exactly? Why would I willingly talk to this absolute prick? “At  _ two-thirty _ in the _ morning? _ I get it - you want me, but can’t it wait? I was having the  _ hottest _ dream-” He paused for a moment and I prepared to jump in, to yell at him, but he started talking again too soon. “Hold on. What the hell’s all that noise--wait..are you. Oh my god. Are you drunk dialing me?” I could feel my cheeks burning at his accusation. He sounded pleased with himself. Damn it.

I scowled and leaned against the wall, but he couldn’t see that. I’d ducked into an alcove further away from all the noise - it didn’t lead anywhere and I suspected it was more for people to disappear from prying eyes than anything, but I was tired and my head was full of insane dreams of making Peter feel small and insignificant. 

Of convincing him that I could come and get my things without being bribed. I needed to stay strong, and on point, and not be distracted by his stupid confidence. Slowly I rested the back of my head flush against the wall, and felt the coolness of the rocks there seep into my skull. It was comforting, to say the least.

“Shut up - tha’s not the point.” 

“Holy shit, you  _ are!”  _ He cackled into the line, suddenly sounding far more awake than he had been a few minutes ago. Great. I’d just served to amuse him, to make it look like I was some desperate girl calling him for..what exactly did he assume? 

I didn’t want to think about it - I could hear lips smacking around the corner, and shuddered to think of the couple I was bothering with this phone call. Shit. What was I thinking? I began to pace, pinching the bridge of my nose. Right. I needed to set Peter straight. I didn’t like him, I didn’t  _ want _ him - I hated him more than anything else. I could do this.

“Shut  _ up.  _ Y’know what, Peter--Y-you’re an asshole! What’s your fucking  _ problem? _ ” 

“Wow. You sure have a weird concept of foreplay, there, Prior. Fine, I’ll play along. Go on, tell me I’ve been a _ bad _ boy,”

“God! You’re so..so..augh! This was a bad idea..” I grumbled suddenly, realizing that my yelling at him would only serve as his amusement, it wouldn’t make me feel better - he’d just laugh and turn all of my serious comments into some way to make fun of me.

“You don’t say? Sounds like an  _ amazing _ idea to me. If we’re done here, I’ve got a gorgeous girl to go find in my dreams and finish plowing,” Was he trying to make me uncomfortable by continuing to go back to that? To embarrass me, or was he seriously that open about his disgusting fantasies? 

I stopped pacing. With a frustrated grunt I butted my forehead against the wall a few times, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to jar my teeth and make the room stop spinning just a little bit. It was hard to stay grounded and focused when the alcohol in my system dropped a haze over my eyes. 

“You’re such a pig..and, why are you torturing me, anyway? What did I do to you?” I snapped, there was anger in my voice again, and suddenly all the torment I’d gone through for the last few weeks was bubbling to the surface. Peter was..surprisingly silent as I laid into him.

“I barely even  _ know _ you, and yet it’s your fucking prerog-..per..fuck. Your  _ goal _ to push me around and try to..what? Emb--barrass me? Break me down? It’s not gonna happen, lemme tell you that much. I can’t  _ wait _ to kick your ass in the academy - I’ll wipe the floor with you.” My speech would probably have been a little more impressive, were it not broken by hiccups and stammering, but I didn’t care. It got the point across. 

His laughter surprised me, catching me off guard, but he still didn’t talk - it was like he was allowing me to vent my frustrations, which made no sense at all - but I continued anyway. It felt good to tell him all of this, to have no filter and to let the rage pour out of me. 

“Oh and, for th’ record, M’not a  _ child _ ! Just ‘cause I’ve got muscles..’n endur--ance, and I  _ train _ doesn’t make me a little girl. Just ‘cause ’m built narrow doesn’t mean I’m not a grown woman! It jus’ means I’ll be able to fight you better - you and people jus’ like you.”

“That’s adorable, really. You know, it’s pretty hot when you get all angry, but, I thought you weren’t  _ bothered _ by us,  _ or _ our teasing? Guess I really have gotten under your skin - and here I was thinking about stepping off and leaving you alone,” He tutted, making my blood boil. 

That had to be a lie, there was no way he thought I wasn’t affected by the way I’d been treated! I screwed my eyes shut and pictured the look on his face, which was a bad decision, because the last memory I had was of him standing in the hall, gripping my wrist in his hand. Shirtless. Of narrowed green eyes, and that stupid smirk on his face. Forgetting someone’s freckles is harder than you could imagine.

“Y’know what, Peter? You can take that shitty attitude of yours and..and your pretty green  _ eyes _ and. Get. Lost.” Wait. What did I just say? The words were out there now, and he made a quiet  _ hmm _ ing sound into the line that made me regret ever picking up the phone in the first place. So what if his eyes were pretty? There were plenty of things that could be considered gorgeous but still bad, it didn’t mean anything that I found one feature about him that was likable. Right? 

“Mm. So you think my eyes are pretty, huh?” God damn it.

“So what? Doesn’ make me hate you any less, Hayes. You’re desp-hic-able, rega..regardless of that fact.” I needed to stop talking if I was going to continue slurring like that, it only turned everything I said into something to laugh at. I was angry and I still managed to find it funny, Peter had to be having a field day. 

My ear was filled with the sound of his chuckling, but it was different somehow, deeper and more of a rumble than I was accustomed to hearing. It was..almost genuine? I could say for sure that it was absolutely not even a little bit attractive, and I definitely didn’t want to hear it again. The chill bumps on my arms were just from leaning against a cold wall, not from the gruff sound of his voice.

“That’s alright. I like you better when you hate me, anyway.  _ Way _ sexier.” I scowled, forgetting that he couldn’t see it. “So, what is it about my eyes that are so  _ pretty _ , anyway?” This prick. “Or are you so much of an angry little girl that you can’t say it? I’ve been pretty cooperative about letting you yell at me after waking me up like this - you could at least have the decency to be honest with me, like a  _ big girl _ \- and, like you said, complimenting me doesn’t make me any less despicable, right?” 

The words stung, but they made sense in a twisted kind of way. What harm could come of telling him the truth? It wasn’t like I’d suddenly start liking him or something; that was absolutely impossible. What the hell was happening to this conversation? Hadn’t I originally called him up to tell him how awful he was?

“ _ Fine _ . I..they’re..I like the color, okay? It’s this..really deep, gorgeous shade of green,” shit, I didn’t mean to say that, “Fuck. Fuck you, Peter. You’re makin’ fun of me again. S’not fair,” He wasn’t laughing anymore. 

I could hear a slight rustling of fabric as he apparently shifted positions on his end. This was getting sort of weird, I wasn’t yelling at him anymore, so I should probably have gone ahead and ended the call, right? For some reason, though, I couldn’t find it within me to do that.

“Are you done throwing your tantrum, now?” He asked, that stupid smirk in his voice, I knew it was there without even needing to see him, but the downside to standing there like that with my eyes closed was being able to conjure an image of him, whether I wanted to or not. I shifted, resting my back against the wall again, rather than my forehead. 

I imagined his hair was probably messy, like it had been the last time I’d seen him, that he was shirtless and balled up in his sheets. Were his eyes closed, too? Why was I even thinking about that? Why did I care what he looked like? I’d had too much to drink for sure. I couldn’t find my voice - I couldn’t think of a good answer. 

“My turn to talk then, isn’t it? You’ll stay on the line and listen like a good girl, right?” 

It wasn’t fair that those words made me shiver. No, no, that was just the temperature of the room and the fact that I had on short sleeves. It had nothing to do with the rough syllables in my ear. I didn’t argue, but I didn’t reply, either. It surprised me when his voice barked through the line, sounding mildly irritated.

“Right, Prior?”

“..right.” Why was I agreeing to this? What exactly was I agreeing to, anyway? To listen to him berate me? It was technically fair, since he hadn’t hung up on me when he deserved the right to, but why would I subject myself to that? Why did I care what was fair so far as he was concerned? 

“Right, what?” The words surprised me and I scowled, there was no way in hell he was going to get me to say that. None whatsoever. After another ample pause, he sighed into the earpiece, and I imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. It filled me with pride.

“Just say it. The quicker you suck it up and do what I ask, the quicker you can get back to your friends, and besides. You’re curious, right?” He had a point. I gritted my teeth, and felt the heat rising to my cheeks. At least no one was around to hear this, right?

“..I’ll..be a good girl, and stay on the line,” It was equal parts embarrassing and shameful to say those words. To feel like I was some kind of puppy being given instructions on how to behave. It occurred to me that I could just hang up, but I  _ was  _ curious now, I wanted to know what he would say. 

It occurred to me that we’d never had a real conversation before that didn’t involve him berating me, or me yelling at him. The alcohol in my system was convincing, telling me that I should take a chance and listen up. The worst that could happen would be him talking to me the way I’d just done to him,I could always hang up, it wasn’t like those words were binding.

“Good.” He was quiet for a few seconds, and I found myself uncomfortable, I just wanted him to  _ talk _ already, I think, maybe, a small part of me wanted to hear his voice, which was ridiculous. I had no reason to want that what so ever. “You won’t interrupt me, either. Just, answer my questions when I ask them, and be quiet the rest of the time, unless I say otherwise.” 

I nodded, and then realized that he couldn’t see that, so I mumbled under my breath, “Okay.” Which was a hard pill to swallow - two syllables and I’d put him in control, I’d submitted. What the hell was happening? That seemed to be all he needed to hear as he cleared his throat, I could just hear more rustling fabric in the background for a moment before he started talking.

“Okay,” He parroted back to me, “so, since you got to tell me what’s on  _ your _ mind - it’s my turn, right? You stole that dream from me, so..” Did he sound nervous? Was that even possible? “I’m gonna tell you about it, in detail. Not because I want to tell  _ you _ , but because, if we’re being honest adults here, I’m horny, and this is..sort of one of my big turn ons.” I didn’t mean to hiss through my teeth, but the words sent a chill through me, and he chuckled. 

“So. Deal with it, alright?” I felt my cheeks flush and opened my mouth to argue - was this really his point? To talk about..well, some kind of kinky wet dream to me over the phone? My ears and face were burning now, and I considered hanging up right then and there, but damn it if I wasn’t curious. So I didn’t respond, just listened to the sound of him breathing on the other line and felt my heart racing in my ears. 

His breaths were heavy, like he’d just run a marathon, and I wondered if a small part of him really  _ was _ nervous. I felt a tingle run down my spine as I thought about the fact that I was dealing with a tired, turned on pervert who wanted to share his fantasies with me. I wanted to say I wasn’t interested, that the  idea was repulsive but..well, that wouldn’t be entirely true. I was  _ curious _ \- and..maybe a little excited.

“Alright so..I’m just kicked back in The Pit, minding my own business and this woman comes up to me,” He started, sounding more confident with each word that escaped him, “And holy shit, I mean, she’s hot - ten out of ten, and sits next to me. I’m sure we talked, but that’s a little fuzzy,” 

I got the feeling I was in for a long night if this was the pace he was setting, “Not important. So, anyway, she wasted no time, I mean  _ no  _ time at all, and immediately had her hand running up and down the inside of my leg,”

I bit the inside of my cheek, picturing the scene behind closed eyes, despite the fact that I didn’t want to, but, I couldn’t imagine the girl, because he hadn’t described her - aside from how attractive she was - so I wound up imagining myself doing those things, which only made the entire situation even weirder.

“and she starts rubbing me through my pants, full out stroking my dick like we’re not in a public place, until I was super close to losing my damn mind.” I flushed at his choice of words - it was probably the first time I’d heard that particular phrase used as anything but an insult, “I grabbed her wrist, and dragged her away from the bar - because, let’s be honest, there’s no gain in me getting off in my pants, talk about uncomfortable and dissatisfying - and we wound up in the back cavern..” 

He paused, humming to himself, “Which - I’d be willing to bet money on this - I’m guessing that’s where you are right now, isn’t it?” It may have been my imagination, but I thought I heard him groan right before he took a deep breath. I didn’t want to think about what he was doing to cause that kind of noise to pass his lips, or why they made my legs feel like jello.

I swallowed hard, trying not to imagine Peter’s dream self, staggering to where I was with a mystery woman in tow. I hated how breathy my voice had become, I didn’t want him to think that this was doing anything more than weirding me out. “Y-yeah,”

His next words surprised me, “Respond yes - or,” His tone turned suddenly mischievous, “Yes, sir. That works, too.” I narrowed my eyes, opening my mouth to argue, but he cut me off before I could form any kind of argument. I was  _ not _ calling him sir.

“What are you wearing, Prior? I can’t picture you there, of all places,” Why did that send a shiver right up my spine? I closed my eyes and counted to five - it was part of the agreement, and despite the fact that I would never admit it, I wanted to hear the rest of his dream. I was intrigued. 

“I..Christina dressed me up, so..uh, tank top, her jeans, and boots,” If he’d been hoping for sexy, he’d come to the wrong person. I felt a little embarrassed by that, even more so at the fact that a small part of me wanted to be sexy in that moment.

“..hair up or down?” Why was he so interested in what I looked like? Wasn’t he trying to tell me about his dream? I looked up at the sound of footsteps, the couple around the corner had walked out past me with looks of irritation on their faces, like I’d been bothering them, but I tried not to think about that. 

“Down,” He let out a soft moan that sent the blood rushing to my cheeks, I opted not to respond to that. Instead I closed my eyes again, feeling feverish suddenly. I pressed my back a little more firmly against the wall, enjoying the cold that seeped through my shirt and helped to cool me down at least a little bit.

“Anyway,” He cleared his throat, sounding slightly uncomfortable, which made me feel a little better, “I shoved her back into the first alcove in the wall I could find,” Suddenly the cold wall on my back felt more personal, “and started kissing and biting her neck and man, did she taste good-- the whole time she was pulling on my clothes, and practically begging me to fuck her.” 

His tone made my stomach clench, he was brazen and rash, and I found myself enjoying the way he talked, which was irritating. I had a heat pooling in my lower abdomen and moving between my thighs, causing me to squeeze them together tightly. A soft noise passed my lips at the motion that seemed to stop him for a moment, allowing its absence to hang between us.

“Mn..so I grabbed her hips and pushed her further up the wall, until she had her legs wrapped around me, I was grinding against her to make her scream.. _ god _ did that feel good, and then-”  I didn’t realize I was hanging on his words, and the image he was painting, until he stopped abruptly and sighed. “And then..you called me,” It was a little easier to see why that could have been frustrating, now that I’d been in his head.

“I want you to do something for me,” His voice was gravel and grit, growling down the line, and into my ear, and I didn’t hate it. My heart was racing as I waited for him to continue, my tongue darting out to dampen my lips. “I want you to touch yourself - I want you to moan. I’m close, and I want to come, and you ruined my perfectly good material with your call,” 

It felt like someone had hit me in the stomach and knocked all the breath out of me - like I’d been hosed down with fire, and it was difficult to decide which of those feelings were worse, let alone figure out why I felt a tingle of desire creeping up the insides of my thighs. This was Peter! I should have gagged, called him a disgusting pervert, and hung up.

Instead I bit my cheek and whimpered into the phone, feeling something between shame and nerves, “B-but I don’t..I don’t know how..to do that.” I stammered, knowing he’d tease me, it was fairly common, from what I’d heard in tidbits of conversation from classmates and friends over the years, but I’d never been particularly interested in that sort of thing. Until now, anyway.

He chuckled, but it was low in his throat and missing its usual malice. It was unfairly attractive, and I hated it. Without his stupid smug face, I could be attracted to that voice, to the sounds he was making. Peter moaned into the phone; I felt my heart flutter, and a pulse of..something twitch and flare at the apex of my thighs. “That’s a shame. I wanted to hear you moan. Did you enjoy my story, at least? Did I make you wet, Prior?”

“I..yea--yes.” I squeaked out, horrified at the fact that I’d corrected myself, that I’d responded they way he’d  _ commanded _ of me. What the hell was happening? I ached in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before and squeezed my thighs together a little tighter, which felt good. Good enough that another quiet noise escaped me, not quite a moan, but close enough that Peter’s breath caught and he started talking again.

“Mmn. That’s a good girl - god damn it, I can’t believe I’m saying this..but I wish you were here.” Once again, a flush crept onto my face. Had I heard him correctly? Without meaning to I pictured him, a sprawled out mess of pale skin and random freckles, sweating and moaning down the line as his hand moved beneath the covers, I was sure that he was touching himself, and that..actually turned me on. God help me.

“Fuck, if you were here, you’d be begging me, Prior. I’d have you naked and tied down, and I’d--oh  _ fuck _ ,” My legs had no right to feel weak, but this had just become very personal. I kept my eyes shut tight and leaned against the wall a bit more firmly. For the first time in my life, I felt disappointed that I didn’t know how to touch myself, how to alleviate the frustrating pressure building, and threatening to burn me alive. The hand not holding the phone was gripping the front of my shirt for dear life.

“God I’m close, Tris, please, please for the love of  _ God _ moan, say my name,  _ anything,” _ He grunted with an air of authority that sent chills down my spine, and I didn’t even pause at the fact that he’d called me by name. Not Prior -  _ Tris _ . I didn’t think I could moan again, but rubbed my thighs together anyway. Would me calling him by name make him feel as tingly as I had when he’d done it?

I felt self conscious, but a shudder of pleasure washed through me as I ground my legs together, and the name spilled off of my lips, possibly for the first time in my life I’d said it without a trace of hatred or anger, just a breathy, wanton kind of mewl that I might have been ashamed of had I not been drunk on all the sounds he was making directly into my ear--and..y’know, actually drunk, too.

“ _ Peter.. _ ” He yelped then, as though in pain, but I never got to hear whatever it was he had to say next, because suddenly there was a hand over mine and my eyes popped open in panic, someone had heard me say it. Heard me  _ moan _ Peter’s goddamn name like a lover, rather than a rival, rather than an enemy! The phone was plucked from my hand and I stared up at Al with a mixture of horror and rage.

It had to be him.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to leave Tris alone. You’re just taking advantage of the fact that she’s hammered, and she’s not in the right state of mind to be talking to someone like you.” I felt angry, but with my eyes open the world lurched and the spinning resumed tenfold. I felt like I might be sick - I couldn’t even stand on my own.

I’d planned to say Al’s name, to say anything, really, but immediately clasped my mouth shut and covered it with my hand. Keeping it open made me feel ill. Without a voice, without  _ Peter’s _ voice, as an anchor I started to float away into the alcohol induced haze I’d been drifting in and out of all night. I felt sick and weak. At some point Al stuffed my stolen phone into my front pocket and slung an arm around me.

Despite everything, there was still an agonizing tingle in my core, a burning ache, a  _ need _ , and Peter of all people had put it there. I felt like my skin was on fire, and compared to Al’s cold, clammy skin, it probably was. I didn’t have it in me to look at him - to look him in the face knowing he’d heard me. What had possessed me to do any of that?

“Let’s get you home..” He mumbled, but he sounded angry, not concerned. I closed my eyes and became dead weight, but he didn’t complain. Instead, I felt my feet leave the floor and he carried me. Normally, I might have protested, but I was tired, and it allowed for me to focus on the pulse of need that pounded like a heartbeat between my legs. Thanks to Peter and his stupid story, and his even more stupid voice, I was turned on, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Getting home was a blur - Al never put me down, and I never asked him to. I might have fallen asleep, but I wasn’t entirely sure of that. After..some period of time, I felt him rustling around in his pockets and heard a door unlock, open, and then be kicked closed loudly. The place smelled familiar, like home, but I didn’t open my eyes. A minute or so later the hard muscle of Al’s chest and arm was replaced by the cool, soft material of my pillow.

He didn’t speak, just laid me down and closed the door, presumably behind him, because I heard footsteps leading out into the hall. A few minutes later they returned and there was a heavy glass  _ thud _ on my bedside table. “Get some sleep, Tris..” He sounded sad, but I was too far in my own head to care.

I fell asleep still thinking about a husky voice moaning in my ear and snapping commands at me like it was my boss, with the conjured up image of Peter pressing me to that wall instead of his dream girl.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy your Petris sin, since my sorry ass can't make these two interact like that without torturing them a lot first!


End file.
